Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot-Chapter 56 - 55 - The Curse of Vaise.

Raven blinked at the upside-down sight of Crisaius hanging like a cursed bat from the shed roof. His hair, whiter now, swayed with the wind, his eyes squinting at him like he was solving a puzzle.

"Brat, tell me the truth," the old man said with gravity that didn’t match the absurdity of his position. "You’re constipated, right?"

"...Huh?"

Crisaius flipped midair and landed beside him with an elegant thud that cracked the stone balcony beneath his feet.

He folded his arms behind his back and nodded solemnly. "Whenever you think you’re alone, you start making weird faces. Clenching your jaw, staring into the void like a brooding cabbage."

"I—what—?"

Raven had no words.

"I’ve seen you do it many times! You were doing it a second ago!" He said, pointing an accusing finger at Raven’s face. "And you only do it when you’re alone. It’s like... You don’t want anyone to see it. So, if it’s not constipation, what is it?"

Raven’s mind screeched.

He couldn’t say, "Oh, nothing; it’s just talking to my black-market divine sugar daddy through a semi-sentient system that may or may not be violating several heavenly laws."

Yeah, that wouldn’t fly.

Instead, the old man might smack his head or call for an exorcist.

So, he smiled—too wide and forced—and said, "Forget me. What are you doing here?"

"Tch," Crisaius snorted. "What? Can’t an old man visit his disciple without a warrant? Need to check in with the Ministry of Privacy or something?"

Raven opened his mouth, then closed it. ’Now, what the fuck is the Ministry of Privacy?’

"I came to get a massage," Crisaius added as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I’m an old man, boy. My bones creak and my muscles ache. It was so good when your great-grandmother was still here. She would take a kiss as the fee—"

"Stop!" Raven cut him off with a raised hand, his expression scrunched with disgust. "Don’t make me imagine weird shit."

The old man just laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "Bah, you don’t understand love. But still, do you think I’m joking? My body hurts. These are the last days of this poor soul, you know? If I don’t get treated well now, then when?"

Raven wanted to retort again but couldn’t because he knew Crisaius wasn’t satisfied with his situation despite joking about it.

After all, the old man was dying.

Slowly, painfully, and inevitably.

The reason for that was the Vaise physique.

It was a miracle for many, yet those who had it knew it was also a curse. It gave them monstrous strength, incredible talent, and dragon-like bodies that could overpower entire armies.

But the price...

It poisoned them.

Mana, that pure and beautiful energy that gave others life, was a slow death sentence for them.

Their physique, a gift from the dragons, was similar to that of dragons, so it needed mana with high purity.

But their hearts, responsible for pumping and purifying the mana, were normal like other humans.

It couldn’t provide the purity of mana needed for the physique, hence poisoning it.

Most Vaise family members didn’t even live past 40 because of this.

It was the irony of their greatness and the reason behind the endless bastards in the Vaise family.

Fathers and mothers dying young, children born in panic, in desperation to pass on a bloodline before it was extinguished.

Those who had survived longer in the Mana baptism were a few exceptions.

Crisaius Von Vaise was one of them, having endured the Mana baptism for three minutes and forty-nine seconds.

That feat alone placed him at the peak of Vaise legends. It should have given him a sixty-year life, at most.

But when he turned fifty, he disappeared from the battlefield.

He sealed his mana.

He stopped climbing and growing stronger.

By forcefully halting the circulation of mana in his heart, which stopped the decay.

He bought himself time.

Nearly another century.

But even that was running out.

Because the poison never left. It had only slept, and now... now, it was waking up.

Raven stared at the old man as he stretched his back, groaning exaggeratedly.

’His plot still hasn’t changed.’

Raven could remember how Crisaius had returned to the family after realizing that he would die even if he stayed away from the battlefield.

Then, one day, he died protecting the original Raven.

He was shown happy with his death, but Raven didn’t think that was true.

It’s impossible to smile with death before them.

So, Raven finally spoke, his voice quiet and sincere.

"Don’t you want to live longer, old man?"

Crisaius paused mid-stretch.

He blinked, looked over his shoulder, and squinted. "What’s this now? That was suspiciously gentle, brat."

"I mean it," Raven said, more firmly now, rising from the railing and standing straight. "Don’t you want to live longer?"

The silence following those words wasn’t heavy but strange, like the calm before a thunderstorm that never quite came.

Then, Crisaius chuckled. "What, you planning to feed me legendary phoenix feathers? Or did you make a pact with a demon?"

Raven didn’t smile.

He just stared into Crisaius’s sharp old eyes.

Serious and grounded.

"I’m not joking," he said. "Not even a little."

That stopped the laughter. Not with a screech, not with drama. But with a quiet tapering-off.

The old man studied him.

Not with suspicion but with curiosity.

"You’re serious."

"I am."

"Hm." Crisaius walked to the railing, his back to Raven. "You’re not the first one to ask that, you know? Many people tried to help me, but it wasn’t as easy as they thought."

’Well, duh. It’s generational.’ Raven sighed but didn’t say that out loud.

"I’m not like them," he said.

That made the old man glance over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on Raven.

’Where’s he getting that confidence?’

It wasn’t that Crisaius didn’t want to live.

He wanted to live so much that he abandoned the battlefield, not caring about his image.

However, even if it was Raven, he didn’t want to believe that he could be saved.

After all, hope was more dangerous than the poison in his body.

Raven could tell that.

He knew what Crisaius could be thinking, as he knew what kind of mindset this guy had.

But he would make the Old Man hope again because he had the solution, unlike those who gave him false hope.

He stepped closer to the old man, making his brows twitch. "What? You want a hug? Getting sentimental—?"

He paused.

Because Raven placed his finger on his forehead.

Before Crisaius could even frown...

"Wha—!!"

Something foreign entered his head, and his eyes went wide.

He jumped away from Raven, clutching his head. "What the hell did—"

But his words were cut short again as the information about the cultivation technique Raven transferred appeared in his head.

"This..."

His eyes turned to Raven, his eyes filled with surprise, shock, and disbelief.

"What is that?" Raven smirked, his arms folded. "Is that what you want to know?"

"Yeah—" Crisaius paused.

’That smirk...’

It looked familiar.

It was similar to his expression when he wanted to annoy Raven, so he clenched his jaw, realizing that the situation had turned around.

But soon, he calmed down, his expression uninterested.

"You think?" He scoffed. "I already know what it is. I got every piece of information along with the technique."

"Are you sure—?" Raven tried to press, but Crisaius, who couldn’t keep up his act like always, grumbled.

"Yeah, you brat!"

Crisaius, despite wanting to ask questions about the origin of this technique, decided to stay quiet, and finally, after being unable to take the smug look on Raven’s face, he huffed.

"Such an ungrateful disciple," he muttered, rubbing his back, groaning in pain as if he were really hurt. "His old master came for a massage, yet he didn’t even move."

He leaped on the railing of the balcony, glancing back at Raven. "I’ll just go back."

He almost jumped down, but before that, he turned around as if recalling something.

"Oh, yeah!" He exclaimed. "Don’t worry about the verification. This old man has taken care of it for you."

With that, he was gone, leaving confused Raven behind.

"Huh? What did he say he took care of?"

His reaction wasn’t uncalled for; after all, he didn’t need help in the verification process in the first place.